


A Slight Hiccup

by TeamGwenee



Series: Pretty Dress Prompts [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Personal Shopper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:15:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: In a rush job to get all their final orders out, one or two slight mistakes were bound to happen. But this was a fuck up of a different magnitude altogether.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justme (silver_spring)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_spring/gifts), [december13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/december13/gifts).



Brienne was ever grateful for Catelyn's job offer. The temp work was easy to fit round Brienne's study schedule and gave Brienne the opportunity to eat something other than bags of ramen brought in bulk. It was not an exaggeration to say that Brienne would crawl on her belly over broken glass for Catelyn's sake. Even take a flaming arrow for her.

But this...this was another challenge entirely.

She could not grudge anyone for the sorry state of affairs she was in. A flu epidemic had swept round the office and took out their best shoppers, knocking Margaery and Sansa and Dany all for six. The coven of perfectly put together fashion goddesses were all wild haired and streaming eyes, buried under piles of tissues. All on the week before one of the largest charity galas in Westeros society.

And so Brienne and Renly were left working overtime, sourcing gowns and finalising orders for pampered ladies and lordlings who had no sense of timekeeping. Fuelled by coffee, takeaway and pure desperation, they just about pulled through and were down to their final order when the blow came.

Or rather, it was a blow for Brienne. (And perhaps even a blow for Catelyn though of a very different kind). On the night of the gala, Ned Stark was home on surprise leave and Brienne; blessed with a large heart and apparently small brain, told Catelyn to go home and leave the work to Brienne.

It was just one order left. She had to select a gown for a 'Miss Lannister'. All their clients had a profile showing all their previous choices, but to her dismay it seemed Miss Lannister was a new client. She desperately tried to contact Cat or one of the other shoppers, but they were all busy celebrating their husband's return or dying. And so it was with dread that she entered the designer house with whom she managed to scramble a last minute appointment.

She was ushered in and swiftly escorted to the ready made pieces available. She passed through the show rooms with a sick feeling in her stomach. On racks and dummies was gown after gown. Brienne trembled slightly, years of averting her gaze from anything so pretty and tempting seeping in. She clenched her fists and shook her head. She was a professional, this was a work matter and would treat it as such.

She examined the few gowns the design house had in the correct size. The measurements they had been sent were distressingly vague, but any irritation that might have caused Brienne melted as she read out the few they had. The height, the width of their shoulder, all of it stirred intense empathy in Brienne for the faceless Miss Lannister. No wonder she put off buying a dress until the last minute.

Fire shot through Brienne as inspected each gown to the last detail. This would be no rush job, Miss Lannister would have the dress of her dreams.

Fuck professionalism. This was personal.

#

“Did you get the Lannister delivery off in time?” Catelyn demanded over the phone the first thing that morning.

Brienne nodded, then grimaced because obviously her boss couldn't see her. Getting the dress delivered kept her up until past four. Now awoken at eight am, with only roughly three hours sleep, she had yet to remember how her mouth worked.

“Yeah,” she slurred, thanking every god, demon and other that Cat had given her the morning off. “Sent the dress by special courier, got the confirmation it arrived and everything,”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Dress?” Catelyn repeated.

Dread curdled in Brienne's stomach. Hushed whispers and a sharp _'what?'_ directed at someone other than her hissed through the phone.

“I'm so sorry Brienne,” Catelyn groaned, “There was a mix up with the profile. Sansa was already coming down with the flu when she made the order and it was very vague, just an outfit for the evening and-”

“Let me guess, it wasn't a dress they were looking for?”

“It seems we were ordering for a _Mr_ Lannister,”

Well that explained the measurements.

Chaos broke out amongst the office as all rushed in, prepared to do some serious damage control. They steeled themselves for shrieking phone calls and scathing reports in the gossip mags, should their fuck up slip out.

What they were not prepared for was Jaime Lannister, radiant in a brilliant ruby red gown, splattered proudly across the front page of every fashion and gossip magazine.

What they were _really_ not prepared for was the gift basket of chocolate and flowers that had overtaken Brienne's desk. In the giant card covered with love hearts read the message; _'To whomever sent me the beautiful evening gown the other night, my father nearly had a heart attack and all the débutantes he was trying to foist onto me turned and fled. We have to get together some time and let me make it up to you._

_Yours, forever grateful,_

_Jaime Lannister.'_

  


 


	2. Chapter 2

“I liked the dress very much, but this time I think a suit would be more appropriate, don't you?”

Brienne ground her teeth and kept measuring. She knew that the mix-up necessitated some teasing, (even though it had been Sansa's fault in truth), but Jaime Lannister's non-stop mockery put her teeth on edge.

“It actually makes sense, seeing you and understanding how you could look at my measurements and think they were for a woman,”

Brienne breathed in and out. One, two, three...

“What doesn't make sense is why a personal shopper would chose to dress the way you do,” Jaime Lannister mused.

“I'm not a personal shopper,” Brienne said firmly, “I just help do admin around the office. This is about as hands on as I go,”

“Well, usually,” Jaime smirked.

Brienne ignored his comment and focussed on measuring his shoulder.

“This job is just to put me through school,” she muttered.

“Ah, and what are you studying?” Jaime Lannister probed.

“Medieval literature,” Brienne replied succinctly.

“Any hobbies?” Jaime continued with the interrogation.

“Boxing,” Brienne said, bending down to measure his in-seam, starting as Jaime gave a yelp.

“I knew I recognised you from somewhere!” he declared, “I saw you take down Dacey Mormont during the amateurs last year!” he smiled warmly down at her, “You were magnificent!”

Brienne blushed at the sudden compliment. Jaime watched her as the memory of the match came flooding back. She truly had been magnificent. So proud and ferocious, her perfectly toned thighs in those Lycra shorts and sweat beading down her muscled back-

Oh dear.

Brienne's eyes widened in horror as they drew level with a bulge protruding from the front of Jaime's briefs. She looked uneasily up at Jaime to find him white faced and panicked.

“I think I have enough thank you,” Brienne aid swiftly, packing her things away as Jaime backed into his bedroom gratefully.

“Yes,” he stammered, “Thank you,”

He stuck out his hand only to think better of it and placed it over his private parts, near falling in his attempt to escape.

Brienne could not be surprised when an important order from Jaime Lannister came through the next day, with specifications that she was _not_ to handle it. She wondered what he had told Catelyn and the others, for they all looked at her askance the next day and whisper in hushed tones when they thought she couldn't hear.

She prayed to the Old Gods and the New that he had not revealed the boner incident, but the man had turned up at the most press heavy even of the year in a gown. He seemed unlikely to have any qualms about telling employees that he had popped one by accident.

At least he trusted her enough that Catelyn ordered her to drop off the selected clothing at his penthouse flat on her way home. Tentatively carrying the box in one hand and knocking on the other, she prepared herself for a shit load of awkwardness coming her way.

What she was not prepared for, was the candlelit dinner laid out on the mahogany table, Jaime stood waiting for her in a crisp tuxedo. He had clearly been aiming to appear nonchalant by leaning on the back of a chair, but couldn't seem to find a comfortable position and it was mid-fidget that Brienne found him.

On seeing her in the doorway, he straightened up and thrust clammy hands into his tuxedo pocket. He smiled uneasily and nodded.

“Hello again,” he said, swallowing when at first the words didn't come out.

“Hello Jaime,” Brienne bashfully held out the box, “I have your delivery here. Am I interrupting something? Or is this how you normally eat dinner?”

“Why yes, every night without fail I stick on a tuxedo and dine on cordon bleu cuisine, care to join me?” Jaime shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“Thanks but I'm probably underdressed,”

“Indeed, why don't you open the box?”

With a furrowed brow Brienne placed down the white, be-ribboned box. Inside, amongst layers of crisp tissue, was a exquisite floor length evening gown. Ice blue Myrish lace, too pretty and too delicate to touch, let alone wear.

“I'm thinking this time, you wear the dress,” Jaime smiled, “Is this one satisfactory?”

Brienne let out a choked laugh. “I dare not, I would probably get sauce or wine all down the front. And then what?”

Jaime joined her at her hip and run his hand down her back. “And then I would have to help you change out of it. That's the part I'm looking forward to most of all,”

  


 


End file.
